The Price of Love
by Fuzzball457
Summary: Dean and Sam get into a fight and Dean makes a mistake that might just cost him his little brother.
1. Chapter 1

**Sorry it's been so long since I've done Supernatural! But now I'm back - with many SPN stories in progress! **

**This story is a special request of SparkieBunny, so this goes out to her! Hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I sadly don't own Supernatural (though my B-day is coming up and they're on my list!)**

**Also, this is un-beta'd because I really wanted to get this up today because it's Jared Padalecki 29th birthday!**

**Enjoy!**

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><p><em>Love can neither be bought or sold, its only price is love.<em>

_~English Proverb_

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><p><strong>The Price of Love<strong>

Chapter 1

Sam gently massaged his temples. The evening was not going at all well and he could already sense a headache coming on.

Dean and Sam had spent the last few hours traipsing throught the very muddy woods looking for what they thought was a black dog. Sam had done all the research and he had been pretty confident in his decision that they were dealing with a black dog.

But as they entered the motel, after an entire car ride of fighting, Sam had come to regret his mistake ten fold.

"I'm sorry, okay? I just thought-"

"No, Sam, obviously you didn't think or you would have realized that it was a fucking _bear!_"

"Dean, bears aren't common here and they aren't usually that vicious," Sam said, trying to justify his actions.

In honesty, he had plain old screwed up. Thankfully neither brother had paid for that mistake and been hurt.

He was tired. Always. Dean mistakenly thought he was getting better, recovering from Jess' death. Even though it had been a little while, not a day went by that Sam didn't think of her and, more often, have nightmares of her death. He'd just gotten better at hiding it. Plus, after two years of normal college hours, it was hard to get back into the insane hunting sleeping patterns, which usually consisted of little rest at best. That plus nightmares equals half-hearted research.

"One thing, Sam, I just asked you to do one thing and that was the research. And you fucked it up!"

Dean suddenly leapt up from the motel bed and grabbed his jacket.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked. Like he didn't already know.

"Bar," Dean said emotionlessly. There was no 'want to come?' but Sam grabbed his laptop and jacket and followed. He was pretty sure his presences wouldn't exactly be appreciated by Dean, but Sam wanted to come and Dean would just ignore him anyway.

Even though just the thought of a loud, musty bar was enough to make his head hurt worse, having to deal with a drunk Dean fresh from a bar fight he'd started with his already less than happy attitude was even less appealing.

As an added bonus bars usually had free internet. This was mostly because most bar-goers didn't bring a laptop so owners don't usually put up private networking walls (not that Sam couldn't get through them if he had to but he'd prefer to be legal whenever possible.) Plus, most bar owners around there probably couldn't spell computer let alone build privacy walls.

Sam closed and locked the motel door behind him and stepped out after Dean. The bar was pretty close, just across the street and down a little ways. That was one of the reasons Dean had selected that particular motel. Because of the bar's close proximity, within easy walking distance.

The air was crisp and the ground was still lightly wet from the morning's showers. Sam kept shooting Dean glances, lest he blow up again.

Sam was well aware that he hadn't exactly been the most pleasant person to be around since Jess' death, but he had been making a very large effort not to let his negative mood show or take itself out on Dean. But, regardless of his mood, he'd been working as hard as ever on their hunts. And it wasn't like he never did anything but the research. He helped on the actually hunting part to and watched Dean's back. Research was just his strength. Everyone made mistakes researching sometimes, even Dean and John, and that was really all it was – a mistake. Bears weren't native to the region and the attack on the victims was perfectly aligned with an average black dog attack, so Sam hadn't questioned it.

And that little slip up had caused the largest argument between Sam and Dean since he had come back to hunting.

As they arrived outside the bar entrance, Dean suddenly stopped. Sam barely managed to avoid walking into him. Dean's hands searched his pockets for something unknown.

"Fucking…" Dean trailed off and Sam just continued to stare at him in confusion. "Left my phone at the room," he growled by way of explanation. "Be right back," Dean said curtly before spinning on his heal to cross back to the other side of the road.

Sam was pretty sure his presence was barely being tolerated as it was and he wasn't going to test the limits of Dean's increasingly pissy mood by following.

And it was because of his spot on the sidewalk that he saw what Dean didn't.

A car was coming around the corner, speeding straight at Dean showing no signs of slowing. Probably driven by someone who'd had a few too many that night.

It was like time slowed. Sam saw the car coming and saw Dean, completely unaware of the hunk of metal barreling at him, continuing to cross the road. His vision tunneled to Dean.

No way in hell was he losing someone else close to him. Especially not Dean.

His heart was beating so loudly that Sam was fairly sure that the sound of it would be enough to alert Dean to the trouble.

Finally time seemed to speed up. Sam's time to act was running out and with it went Dean's time to get away uninjured. Well no way was he just going to stand frozen on the sidewalk. Not when it was Dean at risk. He probably wouldn't stay there if there was _anyone_ in that position and he had the chance to save them.

A scream of warning burst from his lips and the laptop dropped to the ground. John had been smart and, knowing it would take a lot of abuse of the years, had bought a laptop that was very durable. A good quality to have everytime their bags got jerked or one of them was in a foul mood and dropped it on the table harder than necessary or when it fell to the sidewalk from Sam's nimble fingers.

Sam flung his lanky body forward just in time.

For Dean anyway.

Sam's strong hands met Dean's back and shoved him out of the way. A curse slipped past Dean's lips as he was thrown forward onto the asphalt. Headlights temporarily blinded Sam and he tried to steal himself for the onslaught of pain he knew would be coming.

His last coherent thought was that at least Dean was safe.

And then nothing.

TBC...

**So? I'm rather nervous about how this came out so please please review! I'll probably have the next chapter up on Thursday, so not too long of a wait!**

**Oh, and just so you know, this won't be character death.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey! Here's the next chapter! Thanks to my beta Little Miss Artist. **

**Major WARNING for swearing!**

**I probably won't post until Sunday or Monday, sorry!**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 2

Something smashed into Dean, though he didn't know what or why. He was thrown forward and barely managed to stop himself before he kissed the pavement. He whipped around just in time to see a small black car plow into his little brother full force.

There was a sickening sound and Sam was thrown into the air and over the car.

The car seemed to take forever to pass and allow Dean view of his little brother. Finally it did and Dean scrambled towards him. Dean didn't care that it hurt his bleeding and scraped hands.

Limbs stuck at unnatural angles and there were scratches and bruises already forming and blood – oh, god, so much blood. Too much.

"Sammy? Oh god, Sammy!" Dean cried as he dropped to his knees besides his broken brother. Broken – Dean had never seen someone look so broken. Sam was still, eyes closed, body limp, chest still…

Oh, god, Sam wasn't _breathing! _Dean jabbed a hand at Sam's neck just to make sure because it was hard to tell under the blood. The blood that was coming from Sam far too fast and soaking into Dean's old jeans.

Dean turned to the quickly forming crowd.

"What the fuck is wrong with you people? Call an ambulance!" he shouted at them. He didn't wait to see if anyone complied, Sam needed him like yesterday.

He started in with the chest compressions, praying to a god he suddenly believed in that it wouldn't do any damage to Sam's already injured chest and that it would be enough to save his brother. Once he finished that, he tipped Sam's head back – god, he was already so pale – and gave his little brother air.

But Sam still wasn't breathing.

Dean only realized he was crying when a tear splashed onto his hand as he sat up to do compressions again.

"You'll be okay, you just have to breath. C'mon, Sammy. You'll be okay. You'll be okay. Everything will be okay." Dean chanted.

He didn't know who he was trying to convince.

Dean was starting to get woozy from giving his little brother all his air and keeping none for himself when the ambulance pulled up. He was pushed aside and he tumbled back, exhausted arms too tired to support him.

The paramedics started spewing medical mumbo-jumbo that made no sense to Dean. All that mattered was Sam.

Sam who was currently having a tube shoved down his throat.

Dean had seen a lot of awful things in his time, but that – that was the absolute worst thing he had ever seen. And Dean hoped to hell he'd never see it happen again.

That is, if Sam was alive for it to happen again.

No, Dean wouldn't think like that.

Sam would be fine. He'd be up and at 'em in no time. Ribbing Dean for not hearing the stupid car coming.

God, this was all his fault. All his fucking fault! If he had just 'looked both ways' or whatever the hell it is that parents tell their kids to do before crossing the street.

"Sir, are you all right?" A EMT kneeled next to him.

"I'm fine!" Dean all but screamed. He wasn't the one hit by a car. No, that was Sam because Sam pushed his stupid ass out of the way. Sam was the one who needed help, not him. He deserved the scratches along his hand. He had failed in all the wrong ways. He'd let Sam get hurt. Not only that but he'd let Sam get hurt because he was too fucking stupid to look. And then there was before. In the motel and on the car ride back from the hunt. Had that really only been an hour, if that, since then? The hunt seemed ages ago. How could he have gone off on Sam like that? It wasn't Sam's fault. Dean didn't know it was a bear either, if he had they wouldn't have gone out. Sam had done all the research perfect, but had made an honest-to-goodness mistake and Dean had acted like he'd intentionally sabotaged the hunt or something. What a great brother he was.

Not.

"Sir, do you know this man?" she asked.

"Yeah, he's my brother," Dean said, his voice only cracking a little on the last word.

"Alright, can you tell me what happened?"

"I was—he pushed me—he—I didn't," Dean stammered. Before his eyes he kept seeing it over and over again. Sam being hit by the car and Sam hitting the ground. He could smell the blood and suddenly Dean was grateful they never went to the bar. Had they gone to the bar, Dean was pretty sure his beer would be making another appearance right about now.

"Can you start by telling me your names?"

"I'm Dean and he's Sam."

"Okay, Dean, we're getting ready to transport your brother, would you like to come?"

What a stupid question. Would he like to come? No, no, he'd rather walk back to the motel, get his car and drive to the hospital all the while hoping Sam wasn't dead. Yeah, that sounded like fun. What the fuck was wrong with these people?

Without answering her question, Dean shoved himself to his feet and pushed past the woman. A gurney with Sam on it was being loaded into the ambulance and Dean hoped in after it.

No one questioned him.

He held Sam's pale hand and watched as they worked on his brother. At somepoint when Dean was being questioned by the EMT, they had gotten Sam's heart going again, but there was still a tube down Sam's throat and a man at the other end squeezing a blue plastic bag like thing, forcing air down Sam's throat. Sam would be fine. Dean wouldn't believe anything else.

Dean couldn't take his eyes of the tube down Sam's throat. He wanted to rip it out. It just wasn't right. It meant that Sam wasn't breathing on his own, couldn't breathe on his own, and that was too much for Dean. It was his fault.

"Sammy," Dean choked out.

The ambulance slowed and the back doors were opened. Dean stepped out, more like fell out, of the ambulance and Sam was wheeled out. People seemed to come out of nowhere as they swarmed around Sam and blocked Dean's view. He only managed to catch one last glimpse. Sam's eyes were still closed and his skin was pale, almost grey. The wretched tube was still down his throat and people were everywhere and, god, was he even still alive at all?

Dean couldn't imagine Sam as anything but alive.

Dean blindly followed after the gurney until it passed through a set of doors and a nurse stopped him.

"But I have to-"

"They'll take good care of him, I promise. There's nothing you can do, now let's get your hands looked at."

"But he's my brother-" Dean said, sounding broken even to himself. Did he even deserve the title of brother anymore? After what he'd done? What he _let_ be done? No, he didn't. Because brothers didn't do anything like that too each other.

What if Sammy died thinking Dean hated him? Thought Dean was pissed at him for some stupid research mistake that really didn't matter in the grand scheme of things?

She guided him towards a small examination room to disinfect and bandage his scraped hands and Dean couldn't even string to words together to make a sentence to tell her to leave him the fuck alone because he was fuckin' fine and to do help his brother who needed it way more because he was hit by a fuckin' car because Dean was too much of an ass to look both ways.

TBC…

**Sorry about the ending, I guess I got a bit carried away with the swearing :P It seemed kinda Dean-ish though…right?**

**Please review, they totally inspire me! Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm not a huge fan of this chapter, but I think it's as good as it's going to get at the moment. I'm having major problems with the next chapter (plus I have to do some research for the medical part) so as much as I would like to post on Monday as scheduled, it's more important to me that I deliever a good chapter. So it might be a day or two late, but no more than that.**

**Disclaimer: No *sigh* I'm just playing around with them.**

**Also, thanks so much for the wonderful response I'm getting to this story, I couldn't do it w/o you guys!**

**Enjoy!**

Chapter 3

Two hours of waiting and Dean was still sitting in the waiting room. His hands were bandaged neatly and Dean wanted badly to tear them off. Like he deserved little white bandages when it was all his fault that Sammy was hurt. If only it was that easy for Sam, a few small bandages and he was all good.

Dean didn't know guilt could be a physical pain, but apparently it could. He felt like his chest would explode with the guilt. Sam being hit by a car was not a random chain of events, it all lead back to Dean, all of it.

If Dean hadn't yelled at Sam for a simply mistake any hunter could have made, then Dean wouldn't have stormed out to go the bar. And if Dean hadn't stormed out to go to the bar, then Sam would have followed like a kicked, but always loyal, puppy. And if Dean had been smart enough to check for cars, then Sam wouldn't have needed to save him. And if Sam hadn't need to save him…well then he wouldn't have saved him. And he'd be okay. Back at the motel room and together they'd be bitching about stupid bears being too vicious and not knowing their own territory.

But they weren't back at the motel. Dean was in a waiting room, sitting in the world's most uncomfortable chair, and Sam was…well Dean didn't know where Sam was. Sam was somewhere in the hospital, and that alone was never good.

"Dean?"

Dean's head flew up. The doctor, finally!

But it wasn't the doctor, and in hindsight, why would the doctor call him Dean?

It was the infamous John Winchester who, until now had been MIA.

"Dad," Dean croaked. About an hour ago, Dean had composed himself enough to call his dad and leave a rather jumbled message.

Dean felt beyond shocked. His dad was here, _here _in some waiting room. When he was younger, he would have believed that that fact alone would be enough to solve anything. Now he knew better. But there will still hundreds of questions he wanted to ask his dad. But then was not the time nor the place.

"Dean," John said, swiftly approaching him and kneeling down in front of his son even though his old joints protested. "What happened? Are you okay? What happened to your hands?"

When John had got Dean's message, he knew something was very wrong. Without even listening to what Dean was saying John knew something was wrong. Dean was stuttering and stumbling over himself and Dean never did that, not unless something was really wrong. In the message, Dean had been stammering something about a bear and a bar and a car and Sam being in the hospital. John had no idea what happened, only that something _had_ happened.

"Dad…I was…Sam…I didn't…God, Dad, it's all fault!"

"Dean, calm down, okay? I need you to tell me what happened calmly."

Calm? How could he possibly be calm? To Dean, John was asking for a minor miracle there. How could anyone be calm when Sam was in the hospital? Especially under the circumstances leading up to Sam being hurt.

But this was John Winchester and he always managed to get people to do the impossible, even his own sons.

After a few deep breathes, Dean started.

"W-we got into a fight over a hunt that ended up being a bear." Dean scoffed at himself. Why fight over something so insignificant? "I was gonna go to the bar and Sam came with me and I…I guess I just wasn't looking when I crossed the road a-and Sammy, he…he…" Dean trailed off, but it didn't matter John got the point.

It played over and over in Dean's head like a never ending movie. And even though John wasn't there, didn't actually _see_ what happened, he too had scenes running through his head. He could see it all happening, imagine exactly what Sam did for his brother.

"Oh, God," he muttered as he took a seat next to Dean and dropped his head into his hands. "How bad?" he asked after a minute.

"Dad, I d-don't-"

"How bad, Dean?" John asked more forcefully. He had to know. Even if he'd rather not and just go on in bliss, he had to know how bad his youngest son was.

"It was bad, Dad, it was really bad," Dean choked out.

John made a small noise. It seemed so wrong, so unreal. There was just no way. Not his little boy. Not his last gift from Mary. And if he lost Sam, John knew he would lose Dean as well. John would not go on without his boys. He refused. If Sam was lost, all of the Winchesters were finished.

They sat in silence before a few minutes before John remembered something Dean had said earlier.

"It's not your fault, you know," John said quietly. He may not be able to help Sam at the moment, but he could help Dean and doing something, anything at all, felt better than sitting in oppressive silence waiting for news.

"What?" Dean croaked, looking up.

"It's not your fault."

"Dad, how can you say that? Of course it is! If I had just looked-"

"Yes, you should have looked, but, no, that doesn't make it your fault. You didn't know a car was coming. You didn't do anything to intentionally harm, Sam," John reasoned.

"So? I was still the one who didn't check. And after everything I said to Sam earlier about the hunt, Sam should have just _let_ the car hit me."

"Dean Winchester, I don't ever want to hear something like that come from your mouth ever again, understand?" Dean nodded mutely. "Good. Now listen to me and listen good. Maybe you shouldn't have yelled at Sam. But that doesn't mean him getting hurt was your fault either."

"But-"

"Dean! Just let me finish. Did you know a car was coming? Didn't think so. Did you know Sam would push you out of the way to safe you? No. You didn't know. Plain and simple. You're not a psychic, Dean. Sometimes things just happen."

"But, Dad-"

John made an irritated growl. Couldn't Dean just understand this wasn't his fault? "Alright let's try this another way. If the situation was reversed and you were hit by the car saving Sam. Would you blame him?"

"Of course not!"

"Then you can't blame yourself. You do an incredible job of protecting your brother, sometimes too incredible, but that's not the point. Don't you think Sam wants to protect you just as much as you want to protect him? It's a two way street, Dean. Sometime you're going to have to realize that."

Dean said nothing. John knew Dean would still be guilty, but he let it rest for now. His point was made, he couldn't force Dean to accept it.

What was taking them so damn long?

Ten minutes later Dean got up and started to pace around the room causing several other people to shoot him looks of annoyance.

Eventually, John yanked Dean back to his seat when he passed by and growled that Dean was making him dizzy.

"What the hell is taking so long?" Dean snarled.

"I'm sure they're doing everything they can," John said, though he secretly agreed with Dean.

Finally, _finally,_ after what felt like days, a female doctor came into the room. Every person in the room looked up hopefully, but there was only one family she was looking for.

"Family of Sam Collins?"

TBC…

**So Papa Winchester is in the picture now! I realize this chapter was kind of a filler, but I enjoy guilt :) Anyway thanks for reading and please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm sorry that this is so short. I know what I want to happen in the next chapter, but I wasn't sure for this one so I was really just winging it. I will try to update soon, but it might not be until the end of the weekend. **

**Thank you so much for everyone who reviewed/alerted/fav-ed! **

**Oh and I apologize for my sucky medical talk, I didn't really have the energy to do all the research for stuff, so I kind of shortcutted :)**

**Enjoy!**

The two older Winchesters walked up to the doctor, both dreading but craving the knowledge of what was going on.

"I'm his father, John, and this is Sam's brother, Dean."

"Pleased to meet you," the doctor said shaking both hands, though Dean was less than happy to oblige.

"How's Sam?" he asked gruffly. Her lips quirked down into a frown and Dean's heart stopped. No, no, no, not that. Anything but that, Sam had to be alive. He HAD to be alive; there was just no other way for Sam to be.

"Sam sustained a broken leg, three broken ribs as well as a badly sprained wrist, though neither have any permanent damage. He had some internal bleeding which we thankfully managed to correct through surgery."

That didn't seem too bad, Dean though. A broken leg, some banged-up rips and an achy wrist – nothing they hadn't seen before.

"And?" Dean looked over at John who had asked the question. His green eyes flicked over to the woman and he sensed what his dad had sensed.

A but was coming.

The next few words past her lips floored the elder brother. He didn't listen to her medical mumbo jumbo, but instead dazed out and mulled over what she had said.

Head trauma.

Not just head trauma.

A coma.

And apparently Sam may not wake up.

But that was just ludicrous, thought Dean, of course Sam would wake up. Sam had more will power than Ghandi and was more stubborn than a mule. There was just no other option, Sam would wake up. Soon, hopefully.

"You can see him if you would like."

No, thought Dean sarcastically, he'd just like go home after three hours of waiting for this. Honestly, sometimes these people were really dense.

But apparently they weren't as dense as he thought because John said he needed a minute to collect himself – well actually he said he needed a minute to make a call, but Dean knew his father better than that.

As they made their way down the hallway Dean felt his heartbeat pick up. Maybe their dad had the right idea. Could he really see Sam like this? He was already drowning in guilt. Seeing Sam would just make everything all too real.

The big, black, block letters on the sign read ICU. They should have chosen another color, Dean thought. Black seemed to provide no hope. It was like a death omen at every turn. Except instead of warning you of your death, it reminded you again and again how bad your friend or family was hurt.

"Stay as long as you want, but please stay quiet," the doctor said before leaving.

Stay quiet? What did they expect? Them to throw a party and dance to cheesy music while wearing stupid hats?

When Dean finally got a good look at Sam, his previously infallible opinion that Sam would wake, faltered slightly.

He looked so…broken.

When Sam was awake, he was rarely still except for on a hunt. He was always tapping his pencil or fidgeting with his shirt or with his fingers. Even when he was asleep, he was never still. Occasionally, he'd mutter something and often he'd roll around a bit and sometimes when nightmares gripped, he'd thrash about, or more commonly now, squirm in bed and occasionally make a small, pained noise.

But never had Dean seen Sam this still. It just didn't happen.

Now though, there was no hint of movent save for his breathing (thank god that was at least there!) His fingers didn't even twitch and his lips, which Dean had once again become accustom to hearing rattle of random facts, were still.

And for the first time since Sam was seventeen, Sam seemed small. Small and broken.

Dean dropped into a chair next to the bed like his knees just couldn't support him a minute longer. He kept hoping Sam would suddenly spring from the bed and shout 'fooled you!'

But it never happened.

There was a pale blue mask covering half of Sam's face, over his nose and mouth. Dean forced his eyes a way for it, unable to see it any longer. It meant Sam needed help to breathe and that was so wrong. So wrong, that Dean had to quickly swallow down the bit of nausea he'd been feeling.

Finally Dean got up the courage to grab Sam's hand. It made it more real, feeling Sam, knowing this wasn't a dream as he had hoped while in the waiting room. But now that he had a hold of Sam, he grabbed on like the mere connection would be enough to tether Sam to the land of the living and bring him back.

"Dean," a voice said from the door. Dean's eyes flickered to the door for only a second.

John was leaning on the doorframe, seemingly beyond shocked at the appearance of his youngest. After a few more minutes, John stumbled in and sat down on the other side of Sam.

They sat there in silence, for what seemed like forever, silently sending strength to the youngest, willing him to wake.

He didn't.

TBC…

**Okay, before anybody flips out, this won't be character death or anything.**

**Please review, I thrive off them and at the moment I'm getting some writer's block so they would really really help!**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey guys! I'm sorry about the wait for this, but in my defense, I've started on a HUGE Supernatural story that I'm incredibly excited about! Anyway, on-wards!**

**Chapter: 5 of 9**

**Disclaimer: Sadly no. I'm just playing with them. **

**Enjoy!**

"Dean, would you please go to your motel room and get some rest?" John asked wearily. This wasn't the first time he'd tried to pry Dean from Sam. But he'd only left once in the three days they'd been there and that was only because a nurse had threatened that if he didn't, take a shower and get some rest, she'd call security and have him bodily removed.

"No." Dean said simply and John let out an audible sigh.

"Dean…please, just for a little bit. I'll call if anything changes."

"No."

"Dean," John said, using his demanding Marine voice that Dean would usually follow without hesitation. He always followed orders without hesitation, unless they conflicted with Dean's other job. Because the only title Dean valued more than son was brother.

"No, I'm not leaving Sam," Dean hissed. John looked slightly surprised by the tone, but didn't comment on it.

"You're no good to Sam if you drop from exhaustion." Dean opened and closed is mouth then shook his head and turned to face Sam again. "I'll be here if he wakes up while you're gone, Dean, it's not like he'll be alone," John reassured.

"That's what I'm worried about," Dean said under his breath, but John's keen hunting ears picked it up.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Dean shot him a look, but John couldn't read the emotion buried in the green eyes.

"Never mind," Dean said with another shake of his head.

"No, Dean, what did you mean?" Dean's eyes lingered on Sam's closed ones for a while and John started to think Dean wasn't going to respond. "Dean-" he started but Dean cut him off.

"You and Sam didn't exactly leave on the best of terms, did you? And what is he going to think if he wakes up and you're here and I'm not?"

John froze. He hadn't thought about that and it did make sense. As much as John wanted to pull the 'I'm his father' card, he really couldn't. He'd given up that position long ago, and in Sam's case, passed the job off to Dean. And the last time Sam and him had spoken, had ended with Sam basically being exiled from the family.

John had thought over that day a lot, almost as much as he thought of the day the Supernatural first touched their life and his wife was taken from them. But instead of blaming himself, like he did in the case of the fire, he blamed Sam. He was the one who betrayed the family. He was the one who blew them off to go to some school.

And if Sam awoke to find John there but Dean gone…he'd probably think Dean had forced John to stay so Dean could go. And that would lead to a very dangerous trail of thought. John hated that he couldn't be worried about his youngest son without everyone thinking he was being forced to. Even if Sam had left, he was still John's son, his last gift from Mary.

About two months after Sam had left for Stanford, John had started going to Palo Alto every chance he got so he could check on his son. He worried about him just the same. Not to mention, despite the incredibly extensive training he put his boys through, he hadn't trained them against everyday demons. Humans could be just as bad sometimes and that was the one thing John hadn't taught them. Perhaps that was why he didn't want Sam to go in the first place. How could he protect him if he was away at some school?

John realized Dean was now staring at him expectantly. He'd have to say something.

"Dean, I'm still you're father and you will not talk to me in such a way," he said commandingly. Huh, ended up pulling the father card anyway…interesting.

"Look, _father, _I just don't want Sam to flip if he wakes up and you're here. Think about it from his point of view! First you start the mother of all fights with him which ends up with him kicked out of the family-"

"Wait just a damn minute! I did not _start_ that fight! Sam was the one who wanted to leave us!" John said, his voice steadily rising.

"You don't get it do you? You never got it with Sam!" Dean accused. "Sam didn't want to leave _us,_ he wanted to leave _hunting._ Sam never got normal. But we did. It wasn't long, but we've both had normal and Sam hasn't," Dean said, imploring his father to understand. "Even though he didn't like it, Sam did offer to hunt with us whenever he got the chance while he was at school, he tried to keep us as together as he could. You were the one who told him not to come back! He may not have been the most optimistic about it, but Sam always helped with the hunt. He'd do the research and you have to admit, he was a pretty good hunter," Dean said proudly. "But it wasn't enough for him…because he's Sammy and he's smart and he's got this heart of gold. And you know what? Sam thought you hated him! He thought you hated him after that night! And because I didn't say anything, he thought I agreed! I don't know about you, but I could never hate Sam, no matter what he did!" Dean yelled.

John stood, shocked into silence. He did realize one thing, at some point in the near future, he'd have to have a long talk – 'chick flick moment' as Dean had dubbed them – with both of his boys. They needed to get everything out in the open and stop all these secret feelings they were all shoving down.

Before John could say anything, a long, low noise filled the room.

A flat-line.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled. The room suddenly filled with nurses and a couple doctors, and Dean and John were shoved outside. The both watch, terrified, through the hospital door window.

"No, no, no," Dean chanted under his breath. No, this couldn't be happening. Not now, not after John had finally come back and they were finally started to be a family again. Dean wanted to scream at the unfairness of it all. Could nothing go right in the Winchester life?

"Charging 250!" One of the doctors shouted. "Clear!" Sam's back arched off the table then fell back, the flat line continuing.

"Sammy," Dean whispered, guilt attacking him once again with a vengeance. This was his fault, this was all his fault. He should have just looked both ways. And…what if Sam died thinking Dean hated him? Died thinking John hated him? It was actually rather alarming to realize how things must seem to Sam.

Dean was completely floored with a new guilt. He suddenly couldn't even fathom how very alone Sam must have felt before as they were crossing the street. No wonder he jumped in front of the car for Dean. Dean was all he had left. With John gone, supposedly no longer wanting Sam as part of the family, and Jess, the love of his life, brutally murdered…Dean was the last one he had. And if Dean was mad at him, was pissed for some ridiculously stupid reason… How had he not seen this before?

"Charging 300!" They shouted again.

"C'mon, Sammy, don't do this to me," Dean whispered under his breath.

"Clear!" Again, Sam arched off the table, but this time, the lines on the heart monitor spiked back to their original rhythm.

"Yes! That's my Sammy!" Dean shouted, earning a few strange looks from a few people passing by. Sammy was a fighter, he wouldn't give up just like that. Not when Dean needed him so. Especially, not after Dean finally realized everything – everything from that night a few years ago to the full extent of Sam's need for Dean.

"Normal sinus rhythm," one of the nurses said, looking relieved. Dean was the first to voice his thoughts.

"That was too damn close."

TBC…

**I was very tempted to leave it right after Sam flat-lined and leave you with a crazy cliffhanger, but I restrained myself. I figured I'd made you wait long enough, that you didn't deserve that. **

**But I must admit, the whole chapter was kinda a downer. Hope you enjoyed it anyway!**

**Please leave a review, they totally rock my salt! (and my inspiration) **


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, I'm sorry it's been so long! Also, I apologize for the shortness of the chapter but the next chapter (s) (There will either be one more or two, depending on how I group the events I want to happen) will be longer. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, it was much appreciated!**

**Thanks to my beta Little Miss Artist!**

**Enjoy!**

XXX

_I walked across an empty land_  
><em>I knew the pathway like the back of my hand<em>  
><em>I felt the earth beneath my feet<em>  
><em>Sat by the river and it made me complete<em>

XXX

The door was opened and Dean and John were allowed back inside. Dean was immediately by Sam's side. He grabbed onto Sam's wrist, clinging to the feeling of the soft pulse. Sam was alive. Sam was _alive. _Despite everything that seemed determined to prove that statement false, Sam _was_ alive. And that was all Dean needed. He could get Sam through whatever other shit the world threw at the younger Winchester, just so long as he was alive.

"You should know," one of the nurses said just before leaving the room, "comatose patients can often hear what's going on around them. And it can have an effect on them," she said giving them both a knowing look.

"Thanks," Dean said icily, dismissing her. His attention went back to his oversized younger brother, who somehow managed to actually look small while lying on the hospital bed.

"Dean…" John said slowly, a guilty look on his face. "I…I'm sorry…about before…"

"It's not me you need to be apologizing to," Dean said without looking up. John looked slightly taken aback, clearly not expecting such an answer. Dean turned to glare at John with a look of defiance.

They stared at each other for a good two minutes, each trying to read the other's impassive face, until Dean finally sighed and looked away.

"Dad, could you grab me something to eat from the cafeteria?" John nodded quickly then left, eager to get away from the tension.

Dean watched his dad go. He wasn't hungry at all, but it was the only excuse he could think of. Besides, John had been so desperate to get Dean to eat and sleep lately that it was the perfect thing to say. But how could Dean eat when Sam couldn't because of Dean? Sam was hurt and it was all his fault. There was just nothing else to it.

Dean gently ran his thumb over the back of Sam's hand. His green eyes never left Sam's closed ones, endlessly watching; waiting for the moment when they'd open.

When they didn't yet again, Dean leaned back in his chair and sighed.

"You gotta wake up, Sammy. I need you, man. And besides, I think there are a few things Dad wants to get off his chest and you have to be awake to see John Winchester engaged in a chick flick moment," Dean said sarcastically, though it lacked his usual mirth.

"Sammy…I'm sorry. For how I treated you about the hunt...it wasn't your fault. I was just pissed from the wasted time and…right now I wish to God that I had looked both ways on that damn street. Then you wouldn't have needed to save me. I get why you did it…the whole two-way brother street thing, but still…Sam, I can't stand when you're in pain and no matter how old you are, I will always protect you, even if you don't want me to. It's my job, Sam, it always has been." Dean smiled as a particular memory flooded his mind.

"Once, when we were little, you were probably four or so…Dad left to go meet up with some hunter for the night. But before he left, he said 'make sure your brother doesn't go to bed hungry' then I was left alone with you and plate of spaghetti. For the life of me, I could not get you to eat that damn spaghetti. Every time I tried to bring the fork to your mouth, you would just cry. And I used to have this football jersey Dad bought me before…before Mom died…that thing meant the world to me. And you…you got spaghetti all over it. I was ten types of mad. I was fighting with a four year old over a damn plate of spaghetti when I really just wanted to go play football with my friends. I so wanted to just leave you in the damn kitchen and let you starve…" Dean trailed off as he let the memory overwhelm him.

"Finally," he said after a moment, "I ate the spaghetti and you had cheerios or something. Then later that night, after I put you to bed, you came into my room and crawled up onto my bed. And, with your damn puppy dog eyes turned on full blast, you thanked me for eating the spaghetti – well you called them stringy noodles, but that's not the point – and then you laid down next to me and fell asleep. And I thought to myself that I was the luckiest big brother out there." Dean gave a small shake of his head while smiling slightly.

"Sam, there were times when I just wanted to kill you, but no matter what, I would kill _for_ you any time."

Dean felt, if possible, even worse when Sam said nothing in reply. He hadn't exactly expected him to jump up and declare it all an elaborate prank to suck him into a chick flick moment…but still, a response, any response, would have been nice. To know that on some level, Sam was listening.

But there was nothing. No sign of life at all from his little brother and wasn't that a scary thought? Dean slid his hand down to Sam's wrist just to make sure his pulse was still there, even though the hospital monitor said it was. After verifying the pulse beating beneath his fingertips, Dean slid his hand back to Sam's.

He knew their dad had been thinking a lot about that night, several years ago…hell, he'd probably thought of it every day since. But in truth, it was hypocritical of Dean to lay the blame all on John for making Sam leave in the manor that he did. Dean could have spoken up and played mediator like usual. He could have stepped in and explained both sides. But he'd been too confused in his own emotions. He was betrayed and hurt and maybe just a bit proud. After all, a full ride to Stanford wasn't something just anyone got.

Dean sighed and closed his eyes.

"Sammy, you've got to wake up for me so I can apologize for being such an ass."

What he didn't expect was a reply, albeit tired one, but a reply nonetheless.

"Can you wait till I get the press in here? I can see the headlines now: Dean Winchester starts chick-flick moment."

Dean's eyes flew open and he jumped up from his chair. Before him was the one thing he was starting to fear he might never see again.

"Hey, Sammy, what took you so long?"

XXX

_And if you have a minute, why don't we go_  
><em>Talk about it, somewhere only we know?<em>  
><em>This could be the end of everything<em>  
><em>So why don't we go somewhere only we know?<em>  
><em>Somewhere only we know<em>

XXX

**I promise I'll update faster, maybe even tomorrow or the day after. Also, the song is called Somewhere Only We Know by Keane. I listened to it over and over while writing this chapter so I just had to stick some of it in there. **

**Also, quick question: someone PMed me about the idea of putting review replies on the end of chapters - up to you guys: review replies or no? **


	7. Chapter 7

**Here we go, the last chapter of The Price of Love! I know some of you asked me to try and extend this, but I wanted to finish this today so I could start on a new story without over-loading myself. Besides, I felt that this made one chapter nicely. And I'm pleased to say that this chapter is almost 3,000 words! Yay!**

**This story was written for SparkieBunny for a request - hope you liked it!**

**Tissue alert for a certain friend ;) Be warned, there is much sappiness in this chapter.**

**This chapter wasn't beta'd so all mistakes are my own. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

><p><em>Love can neither be bought or sold, its only price is love.<em>

_~English Proverb_

* * *

><p>Dean knew Sam was awake before he so much as twitched. It was an art he'd perfected over the years, just like he always knew when Sam was hurt, even if he lied about it.<p>

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said softly. He leaned forward a bit as he watched Sam struggle to open his eyes while Dean mentally congratulated himself on successfully recognizing Sam's awareness.

Before, after Sam had first awoke, Sam had fallen back asleep quite quickly. So quickly in fact that he wasn't even awake when the nurse Dean had called for came. Funny how Sam could still be so tired even though during the last few days he'd done nothing but lay on a bed. The nurse hadn't been able to say anything for certain yet, but based on how alert and focused Sam had seemed before, she concluded it was likely that Sam would recover without any permanent damage. Music to Dean's ears.

John hadn't come back yet, but Dean wasn't surprised. John didn't know Sam was awake and he was no doubt intentionally lingering to give Dean some time to himself.

Sam opened his eyes and took a minute to focus before flinching back slightly.

"Jeez, Dean, personal space!" Dean could tell he was trying to sound indignant but failed spectacularly do to the roughness in his voice.

Dean leaned over and snagged the cup of ice chips from the side table and grabbed a spoonful. Sam seemed to stare at it for a second as if wondering how it had got there. Then he shakily raised a hand and took the spoon for himself. Dean could plainly see the relief in his eyes that the cool liquid provided. But he knew his brother and he knew Sam was frustrated with himself for shaking.

"Sam, we need to talk," Dean said seriously. _That didn't sound ominous at all,_ Dean mentally berated himself. Way to scare Sam away. Sam looked slightly caught off guard and Dean couldn't blame him. For serious conversations Dean normally started with some meaningless chat then moved onto what the real topic was.

" 'bout what?" Sam asked. He knew perfectly well what, Dean knew that, he just wanted to stall. Dean sighed. He couldn't blame Sam for being hesitant, Dean had been an awful brother and Dean wouldn't blame Sam if he never spoke to his sibling ever again.

"You know what," Dean said lightly.

"I'm sorry."

Dean's jaw dropped.

Sam was in the hospital because of Dean and he was _apologizing?_ He'd pushed Dean out of harm's way and had been hit by a car and yet the first words out of his mouth were that he was _sorry? _Just how much did he value Dean?

"No, I'm sorry," Dean said. It wasn't so hard to say. It wasn't hard at all, actually. Because Sam deserved an apology and that was enough for Dean to drop the never-apologizing badass cover.

"But I…and the dog…I should have checked more…shouldn't have made such a rookie mistake…"

"Sam!" Dean said, shock written all over his face. Sam seriously thought he was still mad about that? After everything Dean had no right to be even slightly mad about anything! Let alone something as stupidly trivial as that!

"That…why…you…that wasn't your fault, Sam, it was just a mistake that anyone could have made. Even me. That's one of the reasons I'm apologizing – let me finish," he said as well as raising his hand when Sam looked like he was going to interrupt. "I was a total ass to you for no reason. I shouldn't have jumped on you like that. And more importantly, I should have just looked both ways. I was so frustrated and if I hadn't let it get to me like that…you…"

His heart broke at the sight of Sam looking at him, almost shyly, brown eyes flickering. There was such adoration in his gaze it almost scared Dean. What had he done to deserve such devotion?

Sam seemed to read his mind because he immediately supplied the answer.

"Dean," Sam said softly. "you're my brother. You can yell at me all you want but you're stuck with me," Sam said with a smile on his face. "Someday you're going to realize that every protective, possessive, brotherly feeling you have for me – they're all mutual. I would die for you same as you would for me. You're my brother, Dean. My only brother and I don't plan on letting you go anytime soon."

"Sammy, I thought you were d-dead…it was all my fault…"

"That's what I'm trying to say, Dean. It wasn't your fault. Did you know that car was coming but still go anyway, knowing I would save you?" Dean shook his head and started to protest. "No, Dean, listen. I chose to save you because you're my brother. Just like you would have done if the situation was reversed. Dean, you and I are a team. In hunting and just in life. It's not Sam and Dean, it's SamandDean together, as one. You know what I learned when I went away to college? We can't be separated for long. I thought about you every day. I picked up the phone to call you every day. And the only thing that stopped me was the thought that maybe you wouldn't want me to call. And if you were better off without me at that point, then so be it. Because, to me, that pain from missing you was worth it if you were happy…"

"Sam, I could never be happy-"

"I know that now. I knew that the minute you came through the window into my living room. But before, I just wasn't sure."

"Sam I went to call you every day while you were gone but I didn't think you wanted to hear it. I know now that you weren't running away from us, you were running away from hunting. And I'm sorry we made it an all or nothing deal. You offered to try and hunt on weekends or at least keep in contact, but Dad thought…"

"Yeah."

"But really, Dad shouldn't be the one to decide where we stand with each other. I should have spoken up that night. Told you I was proud-"

"You were?" Sam asked with disbelief written all over his face.

"Sure, Sammy, I mean how many people get a full ride to Stanford? Let alone get a full ride while hunting. Really, when it comes down to it, it's like you said. You're my Sammy and I'm your Dean and that's just how it is. No one - not all the demons in hell, not old yellow eyes himself, not even Dad – are going to change that." Dean suddenly changed from serious to humorous as a huge grin slid onto his face. "Even if one of us temporarily loses their head and goes running in front of cars," Dean said while leaning forward to mess up Sam's hair.

"Dean!" Sam whined, though he had a smile on his face.

"Well now that that incredibly sappy moment is over, are you ready for me to go get Papa Bear?"

"Dad's here?"

"Course Sammy. He had to come to sign you out of this hellhole!" Dean laughed. "But seriously, man, Dad wants to get some stuff off his chest. You know, clear the air between you two."

Sam groaned jokingly and nodded. Dean got up, but stopped at the door. He threw his hand over his heart and dramatically said, "Good luck, my dearest comrade," before sweeping out the door while pretending to cry.

Sam just shook his head. That was his brother for you.

Sam suddenly felt nervous. What would John have to say? It'd been years since they'd talked and even then it was more yelling than anything. Was John mad that because of Sam he'd had to leave whatever hunt he was doing and come all the way done there? Did he come just to make sure Dean was okay? After all, Sam had practically been disowned during that mother-of-all-fights argument years ago.

The door creaked open and John stepped in. He looked almost as nervous as Sam. Odd, the Winchester patriarch was never nervous. Winchester's in general were never nervous, or at least never showed it.

John shuffled in and sat down in the chair next to Sam.

"How are you?" he said awkwardly. All of a sudden, Sam was hit with the realization that he hadn't actually had a one-on-one conversation with his father since he was thirteen or so.

"Fine," Sam said simply, forcing all emotion out of his voice and off his face. If his dad actually had something serious to say, Sam wasn't going to throw him any lines. John would have to suck it up and just say what he wanted to say, no cop-outs.

"That's good," John said while avoiding Sam's eyes.

"Yeah," Sam said. Sam might just have to throw his Dad a lifeline just stop the awkwardness.

"Dad-"

"Sam-" They both said at the same time.

"You first," Sam said quickly.

"Well…um…I wanted to apologize to you…" John said formally. "I was shocked mostly…not that that's any kind of excuse," he added quickly.

Sam sighed. This was happening again. Every time John tried to say something serious, he would flounder around until Sam took pity on him and just let him off the hook.

"Don't worry about it," Sam said.

"No, Sam, I need to say this." For the first time in the entire conversation, Sam looked up to meet John's eyes which were finally fastened on him.

Sam was completely floor by the amount of emotion pouring off his usually stoic father.

"Sam…you were – and still are – so different from Dean," Sam immediately raised his mental walls. If John just wanted to compare him to Dean so more and point out how he wasn't a good little soldier like Dean, Sam was going to stop the conversation and demand John get out. He couldn't handle that now. His brain was too fuzzy with drugs and sleep to get into a fight.

John must have recognized Sam steeling himself for battle because he immediately said , "Just hear me out." Sam supposed he could give his father that much.

"Dean…Dean was the easy one. Dean would have eaten dirt if I told him to. You, you had to fight me on everything. You're like a bull dog, once you sink your teeth in you just don't let go. You're stubborn, Sam, and honestly that reminds me of myself at your age."

"Really?" Sam asked.

"Yeah. And I think that's one of the reasons we fight to much. We're both much too stubborn to ever give in. The problem is we both can't win every time. Sam, you are so smart," John said earnestly. Sam felt a bubble of happiness rise in him then felt like a child for feeling that way. He wasn't a ten year old constantly craving Daddy's praise. "You're inquisitive too. And that plus stubborn isn't a great combination. You can't take things at face value, you always have to dig deeper. And I think that's where we really clashed. You always want to know why. But a soldier doesn't question commands, he just does-"

"But I'm wasn't a soldier-"

"And I realize that now. I just wanted to keep you safe, to make sure you could defend yourself if you had to. And somewhere along the way, I pushed it too far. But back to my point about you needing to know why. Your questions used to bug the hell out of me. I thought you were just trying to be difficult, but I realize now you were just honestly curious. Sam, sometimes in hunting, it's really just a matter of doing it. You don't always have time to sit and think things through. But, having said that, sometimes, you'll say something that will make me stop and think and I'd find something I wouldn't have seen before, another way of doing something that might just save my ass down the road.

"You and Dean make such a great team because of your differences. You're both great hunters, but Dean excels more in the physical part and you excel more in the technical stuff like research. It makes you work together better because both are of equal value. We could have been a good hunting team the same as you and Dean, but both of us were too stubborn to admit the other part was just as important.

"I may be a good hunter, Sam, but I have still done some really stupid stuff. The stupidest one being letting you walk out on me thinking I didn't give a damn about you. Because, Sam, first and foremost you are my son and even though I know I never say it, I do love you."

Sam just stared at him, mouth hanging slightly agape, tears welling up in his eyes, completely stunned. His dad had never shown that much emotion nor said that much to Sam in one conversation. It was strange, like meeting someone you thought you knew all over again.

"So, forgive your old man?" John asked. Sam blinked away a few tears before nodding. In a rare display of love, John leaned forward and gave Sam a hug. It was a little awkward as Sam was lying down and all, but the meaning was still there.

"I see hugging!" Dean called in a childish voice from the doorway. Sam and John broke apart, both blushing slightly, while Dean came in and plopped down on the side of the bed.

"Do you want a hug, Dean?" John asked in a mocking voice.

"Oh, father," Dean said while putting a hand over his heart and pretending to blink away tears. Sam knew the joking was most likely just for his benefit, but he enjoyed it anyway. John and Dean both burst out laughing as well. It felt good, laughing with his family. It'd been so long since they'd all just relaxed and enjoyed each other's company.

At the same time it was sad. The only time they ever really seemed to reveal their true feelings was when one of them was hurt. Why was that? It didn't make them any less tough to have emotions, it only made them human. And why was laughing okay when crying wasn't? Weren't they both just an outward expression of emotion? Yet crying was perceived as weak.

"Sam?" Dean asked having apparently picked up on Sam's increasingly upset thoughts.

"It's silly, really, that the only time we ever really let each other know what we're feeling is when one of us is hurt. I mean when did that whole thing start?"

"You know, I don't remember. Somewhere along the way, emotion just became something you kept to yourself," John said, looking troubled.

"But why?"

"I don't know. Too be honest, it felt kind of nice to get all that stuff off my chest," John said.

"Woah, don't be going all fruity on me now, Dad!" Dean cried jokingly.

"Shut up," John growled, though he was still smiling.

"I just mean that it wouldn't kill us to talk sometimes about major things that are bothering us," Sam said.

"Agreed," John and Dean both said at the same time. Sam smiled.

For the first time in a long time, everything was okay.

The End

* * *

><p><em>"One day your life will flash before your eyes. Make sure its worth watching."<em>

_~Unknown_

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you so much to everyone who has followed this story. I was blown away by the response this story got in review, favorites and alerts. <strong>

**Reviews rock my salt! (hint hint)**


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